


i can send you into overdrive

by loveandwarandmagick



Series: vixen! neil [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andrew Minyard Has Feelings, Demisexual Neil Josten, Exy (All For The Game), Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, POV Andrew Minyard, Pining, Vixen Neil Josten, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000, andrew is out, but y'know the boys have trauma, nicky is well intentioned, they're not AS fucked up in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:11:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26180164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveandwarandmagick/pseuds/loveandwarandmagick
Summary: Andrew was doing just fine before the Vixens. Andrew is doing just fine, until the newest freshman boy on their team catches his eye, and ends up being interesting too. For whatever reason, Neil is just as interested as Andrew, and he's persistent in their interactions. Not that Andrew minds, not at all.The Vixen! Neil AU nobody asked for, inspired literally completely by listening to 'bang bang' by jessie j ft. ariana grande n' nicki minaj
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Series: vixen! neil [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1972759
Comments: 55
Kudos: 603





	i can send you into overdrive

**Author's Note:**

> look. i was in the car, and the song came on, and instantly, i wrote this out. i hope y'all enjoy it, i'm aware that andrew is a lil ooc, please forgive that :( 
> 
> anyway thank you for reading, love u all, stay safe <3

Andrew has many problems with Exy. It’s a dangerous waste of time, a poor imitation of ice hockey, and it’s generally too boring to hold his attention. The only real appeal is having Aaron and Nicky close enough to watch over them all the time, and eventually, he’d added Kevin to that mix.

Then there’s the crowd, either expecting something from him, or disappointed when he plays the way he prefers. The other sports teams rarely show up to support the Exy team, but when they do, it becomes another issue. It’s irritating just that they’re there, but worse because of what they assume about the Foxes.

Andrew remembers each time the soccer team shows up, shouting, “Hennessy,” when Wilds gets on the court, or carrying their “blood, sweat, and tear,” posters. The messages look encouraging, but with their vague knowledge of their pasts, it’s anything but. 

He can grit his teeth and bear it, swallow it down and force his face smooth when they jeer and taunt. But the cheer cult is a different story. 

“ _Drill team_ ,” Aaron still corrects, as if Andrew doesn’t realize already that they dance as well. He’s well aware that his irritation is mostly directed at Katelyn, the object of Aaron’s affections and the only girl that’s proved to be harmless in their lives. She’d never hit him, not even jokingly like Dan swatting at Matt. She doesn’t drink or smoke either, and she never has. 

Andrew is both infuriated and impressed by her. Right now though, he can’t help but feel _irritated_. They reserved the Exy gym for freshman tryouts, but Kevin wants to linger for practice drills when they leave. Andrew knew he wasn’t going to want to get up later, so he begrudgingly brought him to wait. 

He has a few minutes of blissful silence with his earphones shoved in, but then he catches sight of Kevin’s face and he tears them out immediately, looking for the source of his panic. 

He’s gone pale, eyebrows raised so high that they disappear into his hairline. “There’s a _guy_ ,” he says, and Andrew scowls, looking over to the floor. 

“You’ve never seen one before?”

“No,” he says, expression becoming more astonished. “You didn’t _see_ him.” 

Andrew frowns - Kevin rarely ever looks impressed; the fact that he’s reacting so strongly is not a good omen - turning back to search for him. “Where?” he asks, but as soon as it leaves his mouth, he sees a blur of motion from the back. 

Someone - presumably the boy that Kevin was talking about - is flipping through the air, twisting and turning and hitting the floor every so often to spring forward again. He finishes with a turn, landing heavily on his feet with a huff. After covering half the fucking floor by launching himself through the air.

He is, most certainly, a boy.

He is _also_ the prettiest boy that Andrew has ever seen. He catches sight of Katelyn among them, watching him just as closely as the other members. Someone laughs and it echoes through the silent room, sounding thick with nervous tears. 

“Well fuck,” Andrew mutters, with feeling. 

“Do you think he’ll make it?” Kevin asks, and Andrew shoots him a flat look.

He frowns, waving his hands frantically as he elaborates. “Well like, what if he doesn’t make it because they’re intimidated?” 

Andrew levels him another even stare, a silent answer. _Talent isn’t worth giving up_ . _You, of all people, should know this_. He suspects that he just looks bored, but if Kevin hasn’t learned to decipher his expressions by now, it’s his own fault.

He huffs, frustrated, and turns away. Which means he knows, at least somewhat. 

Andrew turns back in time to see one of the captains snap out of it. She pulls the boy to the side, and he smiles weakly, before it disappears again under a careful expression. Andrew watches as he scans the crowd of girls in front of him, while Katelyn comes up to talk to him. 

He forces himself to look away when he turns around, leaning back on the bleachers. 

Kevin’s mouth is moving, but Andrew has his music all the way up already. With a sigh, he pauses it, just in time to catch Kevin saying, “You two have the same emotionless glare.” 

Andrew tilts his head again to watch the audition. Catches sight of the new boy with his head tilted, staring right back at him. Slowly, a sharp grin cuts across his face, and Kevin inhales sharply beside Andrew. Curiosity fizzles in his body, lighting him up.

“Same freaky smile too. Do you have a triplet we should know about?” Kevin asks, sounding half serious. 

Andrew looks away. 

-

He makes the team, unsurprisingly. And he’s a freshman from Arizona. 

All this information from Nicky, who's completely infatuated. 

“It’s not like I’d _date_ him. Erik and I are getting married as soon as we can,” Nicky says, waving off Aaron’s biting comment. “He’s just very pretty.” 

_Too pretty_ , Andrew doesn’t comment. No need to pursue something like that. He’s part of the cheer cult, and he may not even be gay, and even if he _was_ , Andrew doesn’t exactly look approachable. He pushes Neil out of his mind, and as long as he stays out of sight, he’ll manage to be just fine. 

The problem is that with October approaching, the Vixens are bound to be around. Thus, putting Neil in sight, and definitely in Andrew’s mind. 

Out of all the annoying things that the Vixens do each year, spirit month is the absolute _worst_. It’s bad enough that they take up all the break time during halves at games, but it’s even worse that the Exy teams are expected to watch. It’s part of some fundraiser - every week of October, they have a few girls get sponsored to do a routine, and they make money through that. 

The worst thing is that they have to get used to doing their routine on the Exy court. Kevin is incessant about practicing when they’re done, so he stations himself as close to Andrew as he can get without being punched. This time is a few feet from the window, sitting criss-crossed on the floor by Andrew’s beanbag. 

“Andrew.”

“Not today, Kevin.”

“Today, Andrew.”

“ _No_.” 

“Andrew.” 

“Shut the fuck up. Shut up.”

“Andrew.”

There’s a beat of silence. Andrew feels bitterness curling on the edges of his tongue, but Kevin’s stare wins out.

“Go get in the fucking car, Kevin.”

He throws the keys and Kevin catches them, infuriatingly. He rushes out the door and Andrew sighs into his palm before he stands up. The beanbag sits forlornly, an lurid shade of orange that was gifted as a dorm present by Erik, the last time he’d visited. 

Andrew stares at it for a moment, sighs again, and then follows Kevin’s path out of the dorm.

-

They wait half an hour before the cult heads out, and then Kevin speeds into the locker rooms to get dressed while Andrew waits by the entrance of the court. He’s not going to play, but he doesn’t have the energy to hike himself up to the top of the bleachers just yet. Just as his eyes shut, he hears a shifting noise beside him, and then someone clears their throat.

“Feel like sponsoring an aspiring Vixen?” 

Andrew doesn’t open his eyes. “Wrong twin,” he says flatly, assuming that it’s one of Katelyn’s friend’s boyfriend, or something equally distasteful. 

“No,” says the voice, and Andrew’s eyes flutter at the amusement in the tone, “Nicky said to look for the scary one.”

At that, his eyes finally open, revealing the new cheerleader boy. _Neil_ , Nicky sighs in Andrew’s head. 

“And why,” he starts, fighting hard to keep his eyes on Neil’s, “were you talking to my cousin?” 

His mouth curves upward into a smile, and okay, Kevin may have had a point about them having the same smile. Except, Andrew aims to make people uncomfortable; Neil seems to be disarming him, in a viciously pleased sort of way. 

It’s kind of working. Not that he’d admit that. 

“He talked to me first. I don’t really go out of my way to talk to people,” he says, looking down at Andrew’s shoes. 

“Uh huh,” Andrew replies, urging Neil to keep talking while his mind focuses on that glinting piece of information. If this were something he was going to pursue, something he could care about, he’d have thrown it back in Neil’s face. _Am I the exception,_ he thinks, and nearly winces at how taunting it sounds.

Neil continues, oblivious to Andrew’s internal struggle. “He came up to me in class talking about how he’d seen me at practice, but didn’t have enough money to sponsor. But he has a cousin named Andrew who has a _smoking hot_ car that was super expensive.”

 _Fucking Nicky._ His car _was_ expensive, but that’s not the point. 

“And my cousin told you to ask me to sponsor you?”

“Not exactly,” he says. Whatever else he’s about to add is cut off as Kevin slams the door behind him. Neil flinches harshly at the sound, eyes moving quickly to the door. Andrew notices that he’s shifted backwards, as if he was preparing to run. 

He could ignore Neil’s face all he wanted, but the fact that he sparks Andrew’s interest as well is not a good thing. Especially if he wants to stay far away from this (he really, _really_ doesn’t.)

Kevin comes up to the door, looking between Neil and Andrew with poorly concealed interest. Andrew glares at him until he stops gawking, and then turns back to Neil and away from the door. 

“You’re not going to practice?” Neil asks. He’s frowning, but his voice is far too light, covering for the way he’d reacted to the noise. Andrew shakes his head in answer and Neil shifts on his feet. 

For a second, Andrew considers asking what he meant by _not exactly_ , but then Neil speaks again, effectively cutting off his question. 

“Well. Sponsorship is available, if you want it. You’d get to pick the song we perform. It’s me and two other sophomore girls.” 

“I don’t want to pick the song,” Andrew mutters, looking away from Neil. To his surprise, he laughs at that. It’s more of an exhalation, sounding like relief. Still, when he looks back, Neil’s mouth is turned up at the corners. 

“Then I’ll pick it. Let me know,” he shrugs, then he walks away. Andrew watches him go, too distracted by the view of Neil’s legs to notice when he turns back to glance at him. 

Kevin opens his mouth, but thinks better of saying anything. Andrew spends the rest of his time watching Kevin drive the ball into the goal again and again, then beats on the glass when he gets too keyed up just standing there. 

He doesn’t sleep that night, and even then, he can’t chase Neil from his thoughts. 

-

The next day, he corners Nicky before they go out for practice, lowering his voice to a whisper so Aaron doesn’t hear. 

“What did you send me the new cheer cult member for?” he asks in German. Nicky only looks confused for a second before his face clears, and he beams. 

“He actually talked to you? I didn’t think he would. Wait, did you talk to him?”

Andrew repeats his question, glancing at Aaron out of the corner of his eye. Nicky’s language change didn’t miss anyone unfortunately - even Boyd’s staring at them. 

“He’s cute,” Nicky shrugs, and Aaron turns to glare at the pair of them. “And you have money. Figured it’d be a good opportunity. You deserve to be happy, Andrew.”

Andrew responds through gritted teeth. “You don’t know if he’s _gay_ Nicky. Or if I'm interested, or if he's interested. Or if I _need_ you to be invested in my happiness.”

“You don’t know if he’s straight,” Nicky fires back with a grin, tugging on his gloves. “Just don’t talk to him if you don’t want to.” 

It’s a good point, but it’s not like he’s going to tell Neil to fuck off. He _could_ ; he’s done it to many others before. But that was because he’d wanted to. He doesn’t want to deal with the possibility that he _doesn’t_ want Neil to leave him alone, though.

Maybe he’ll turn out to be annoying. Or straight. Anything that could offset his pretty face, or his talent, or the way he caught Andrew’s interest without intending to. 

Or maybe he’ll just be warned off of Andrew, told to stay away for good by some well-intentioned friends. Wouldn’t that be a dream?

-

In the last week of September, Andrew is cursing his luck.

Kevin drags him away from the window while he’s smoking cigarette after cigarette, trying to erase the memory of Neil’s tiny grey shorts from his incessant memory. 

“Practice,” he reminds Andrew, who hums noncommittally in response. “They probably finished a long time ago,” he adds, having caught on to Andrew’s train of thought. Kevin’s oblivious most times, but he’ll catch onto the things that mess with Andrew’s mood when it’s convenient for him - like when he needs a ride to the court. 

“Wait by the car,” he says, huffing out the last wisps of smoke while Kevin watches distastefully. He nods, and Andrew waits until he hears the click of the door to stub out the last of his cigarette. He scrubs a hand across his face, and then pulls his keys from his pocket.

By the time they get there, it’s already eleven thirty, which is much later than usual. Probably Kevin’s intentional effort to avoid having to wait for the court. He goes ahead to turn on the gym lights as Andrew hangs back in the light of the locker room, refusing to step foot near the suffocating darkness of the gym. 

Kevin knocks once on the door, so Andrew heads up the seats to wait for him to get dressed out. For a brief moment, he considers putting on his earphones, and then decides that it’d be too disorienting to close his eyes if he couldn’t hear as well. Maybe he’ll get to take a short nap.

He heads up to the highest row as fast as he can, refusing to look back at all the steps between him and the ground. Just as he steps up to sit, he feels something large and stiff beneath his feet. Immediately, he tenses, heart pumping into overdrive as the thing under the step shifts. 

Bright, blue eyes blink up at him. 

“What,” Andrew says, as evenly as possible, “the actual _fuck_.” 

“Andrew?” Neil asks, stifling a yawn with wide eyes. 

“Why are you fucking sleeping in the gym?”

He sits up, looking around like he has no idea, then turns back to Andrew. _Christ_. 

“Didn’t want to miss practice. The Vixens show up at like five, and I didn’t get back from my run until eleven.” He shrugs, yawning fully this time as he twists and stretches. “Going back to the dorm would have been wasted time.” 

Andrew stares warily, before stepping around Neil to take a seat. “Why were you running so late?” he asks, before he can stop himself. Instead of voicing his thoughts, the most important one being: what the _fuck_. 

“I like running,” Neil says, and by the look on his face, he’s fully aware that he dodged the real question. Andrew, too familiar with being asked questions he doesn’t want to answer, doesn’t push. 

“So? Thought of sponsoring me yet?” Neil asks. He’s still sitting on the floor, knees tucked up under his chin. Andrew averts his eyes from the many inches of skin visible, looking up just in time to see Kevin stride onto the court with his chin tilted down. 

“No,” Andrew replies, as Kevin glances up and sees them. His face creases into a frown as he does a double take, then shifts his whole body to face them. 

Andrew waves him off, and he hesitates before turning back to the court, rolling his shoulders out like he does when he’s nervous. Andrew wonders briefly if he can tell who it is up here. If he’s intimidated.

“Shame. The other girls will find someone else, I guess,” Neil sighs, pulling Andrew’s gaze back to him. 

“Shame,” Andrew repeats, a little stupidly, as Neil’s eyes catch the light. His gaze is sharp, bright blue in a shade that Andrew’s never seen before. For a moment, he lets himself stare, driven by Neil’s equally silent focus. 

Andrew doesn’t like being scrutinized, searched for indication of danger. But Neil just seems like he’s looking, taking in what’s on the surface. It’s disorienting, and makes Andrew’s head spin.

“What time is it, by the way?” he finally asks, breaking the silence. Andrew pulls his phone from his sleeve, turning it on and angling it so Neil can see. 

His face is grim. “I don’t feel tired at all,” he offers, and Andrew hums, showing no sympathy. Of all the ways Neil could react - with offense, disgust, plain apathy - he chooses to grin. Andrew’s struck for a moment by the idea that maybe he’s stumbled upon another type of monster. 

He has to restrain himself before his thoughts drift to vaguely inappropriate places, while Neil smiles at him.

“Are you?” 

Andrew grunts, which means _no_. His lack of proper conversation is a gauge - will Neil get tired of not getting actual answers first or just not be able to deduce Andrew’s speech? Will he be driven away by the simple shit that everyone deals with daily? Or will he be persistent, urging him to make an effort? 

Neil nods, like he understands, and says nothing else. Andrew’s irritation flames. 

“You don’t even know whether that meant yes or no,” he spits, and Neil looks a bit taken back by the sharp tone he’s adopted. Oh well. Better for Andrew if he’s too skittish to deal with his attitude. 

“I figured it was no, considering you’re here in the gym. Your eyes don’t look tired either,” Neil says. Andrew feels his observance keenly, turning back to look Neil in the eyes. 

He adds, “And your posture shows that you’re wide awake. You’re not slumped over, and your arms are crossed, which is a defensive posture.”

On the court, the ball whips wildly against the walls, echoing the shift in Andrew’s heartbeat. He eyes Neil carefully, refusing to concede. “You sound like you know exactly what you’re talking about.” 

Neil shrugs unapologetically. Somehow, Andrew doesn’t feel like he’s been compromised. “Practiced in observation.” 

Andrew smooths out all the emotion in his tone. “Staring,” he manages, in a flat tone. 

Neil stares at him silently, face going blank, almost confused.

Andrew huffs. “You’re _staring_ ,” he repeats, unable to hide his frustration. Neil’s expression clears once again, and the ball slams against the wall again. He can’t hide his flinch, and Andrew can’t hide his curiosity, appearing in the form of a raised eyebrow. 

“Just looking,” Neil says. Andrew hates that he believes him. 

“Just go to sleep,” he mutters, leaning against the wall and shutting his eyes. The ball ricochets off the walls. Once, twice. Right before the third time, Neil argues, “I’m not tired.”

Andrew cracks an eye open to glare at him, finding Neil’s gaze trained on Kevin. He’s dashing between the lines of the court like he’s being chased, turning over his shoulder to dodge an imaginary opposer.

“He’s fast,” Neil breathes, and Andrew grunts again. 

This should not be happening. He should be immediately appalled (though Andrew isn’t sure that he wants that anymore) and go to his dorm to avoid being disturbed. Instead, he leans against the same wall as Andrew, eyes held open in a half lidded stare to track Kevin’s movements. 

He falls asleep like that, and doesn’t even stir when Kevin walks off the court quietly. Andrew stands, legs numb and wary of leaving Neil slumped against the wall. He breathes quietly, face twitching in his sleep minutely. 

Andrew’s filled with white hot anger, hatred, loathing. A wanting so sharp that it burns his throat. 

He leaves Neil there. And then, before he can change his mind, he strips off his hoodie and leaves it on the bench by his side.

Andrew stays up until four a.m., trying desperately to erase the search results of his latest Google search. The word _crush_ makes him feel nauseous, and the internet’s suggestions had only served to make him more uneasy. At around five, he closes his eyes, trying desperately to think of anything but Neil.

He ends up dreaming of him anyway, waking up thoroughly distraught and in need of a cold shower. 

-

Pride isn’t something that Andrew has a lot of, or cares about. He’s not ashamed of admitting when he was wrong - he just usually _isn’t_. Most of the things he does, though heavily misunderstood, can be explained simply to anyone who will listen. 

All that being said and acknowledged: he can admit that leaving his hoodie was a mistake. 

This is proven when, at their next evening practice, Nicky comes in late, with Andrew’s hoodie in tow. Smartly, he doesn’t say a single word about it, but he keeps giving him meaningful looks whenever they catch each other’s eye. Andrew narrowly resists the urge to walk out, instead spending all of his irritation sending the ball to ricochet off of Nicky’s helmet. 

After the third time Nicky yelps, Dan shouts at them to stop and turns to glare at Andrew. 

“Do we need to have family therapy on the court?” Reynolds sneers, and Andrew opts to start aiming at her instead. 

“It’s nothing, Dan,” Nicky reassures with a weak smile, as Aaron hisses at Allison to shut up. 

And like that, it’s resolved. She nods, clearly not appeased by the reassurance, and goes back into position to catch the serve. Right before practice ends, the ball gets back to Andrew and he shoots it straight between Allison’s foot and the ground. 

No one can prove it was intentional, but everyone knows it was. 

Dan casts him a withering glare before he disappears into the locker room, which he returns with a sarcastic smile. And then Nicky sidles up next to him, clutching his hoodie like a prize. 

“You gave him your _hoodie_?” 

He glares. It must not be effective, because Nicky doesn’t let up.

“He gave it to me, Andrew,” he says, which is pretty obvious. “Because you left it with him. He said, and I _quote_ …” 

Nicky clears his throat, gaining the attention of literally everyone. Andrew grabs him before he can continue, taking him into the hall of the locker room. 

“Keep your fucking voice down.”

“He said,” Nicky whispers, eyes lit up eagerly, “ _Tell him thanks and that I’ll feel him later_.” 

Nicky pauses, apparently done, waiting for Andrew’s response. 

“What does that even mean?” Andrew asks, voice blank, eyes even more so. Not giving away a single stray thought that passes his mind as he imagines that phrase coming from Neil’s mouth. 

“Don’t know,” Nicky says hastily, frowning for a second like he thought Andrew might have known. “But Andrew, that’s not the _point_. He wants to… something with you later.” He frowns again. “Maybe I just misheard him?” 

Andrew stares at him. 

Nicky hands over the hoodie, dejected, and gives a weak smile. “Well, he brought you up at least. And you’re not that smart, you never forget _anything_ .” He waves his hand in Andrew’s face as he walks away. “You left it on _purpose_ . And you were _with_ him, yesterday.” 

“You can’t prove that,” Andrew says flatly, and Nicky laughs so hard that Andrew feels the tips of his ears burn. _Stupid, obvious. Even Nicky knew_. 

_Will Neil_? 

_What the fuck did he mean by_ that? _Feel you later?_

Andrew can’t get it out of his head, no matter how many times he tries to dismiss it as Nicky hearing it wrong. He recalls Neil’s lilting tone, soft and sharp, and tries to fit the words in his mouth, imagining the ways he could have meant it. And then he rushes back to his room after class to shower again, with hot water this time. 

When it comes time to drive Kevin to practice, he almost wants to pull Nicky out of bed and hand over his keys. 

But then, what are the odds that Neil’s passed out in the gym again? Surely, if he’d given Nicky the hoodie, it’s because he’s avoiding Andrew. Maybe he’d been too obvious, maybe Neil was uncomfortable. Maybe he actually _had_ been warned off. 

Kevin clears his throat, and Andrew shoots him a look. He finishes his cigarette first, and then leaves. Once they get there, Kevin gets busy on the court, flinging ball after ball towards the paper targets he set up, and Andrew begins a very slow, very careful ascent up the seats. 

If he watches exactly where his feet are landing to make sure he doesn’t accidentally step on somebody, at least it’s a reasonable worry. When he reaches the top, (thankfully, without an incident) he shuts his eyes, sighing deeply in relief. 

It’s alright. He hadn’t expected to see Neil in the first place. He also didn’t expect to be irritated by his absence - he’s never been concerned about anyone else - but the feeling is there, searing the backs of his eyelids. He keeps them closed, stubbornly searching for rest, before opening them restlessly. 

Andrew finds Neil, staring back at him. He barely manages to choke back the noise that falls from his throat, recoiling instantly as Neil puts distance between them. 

“Sorry, sorry. I thought you would have heard me,” he says, not laughing, but clearly amused. His mouth is curled up at the edges, eyes shining, and the sight of it makes Andrew feel like he has to catch his breath all over again. “Did Nicky give you your sweater back?” 

He nods, tongue feeling weak in his mouth. It takes him a moment to figure out what to say. On a slow breath, he asks, “How did you manage to climb up the bleachers without me hearing you?” 

Neil looks down at the rows between them and the floor, shrugging. “Cheerleaders have light feet. Stomping takes away from the landing.” 

Andrew recalls watching their October performances last year, the sound of shoes slamming into the ground to punctuate the end of a song, or a heavy beat. “You’re lying,” he says, sure of it, despite the fact that Neil stays stoic. 

And then he laughs, and Andrew isn’t so sure. “I’m lying,” he confirms, not even startled at being called out. If anything, he looks even more amused, and a bit surprised. For a moment, he falters, face bricking up and untangling itself just as fast. 

“I had a rough childhood,” he admits. “You learn not to make too much noise when you’re going places.”

Andrew feels the barest twinge of feeling at that - not sympathy, but understanding. He nods, once, and Neil’s expression relaxes again. Andrew hadn’t even noticed that his guard was back up. “I know the feeling,” he offers, and Neil nods, and that’s it for a while. Kevin bounds back and forth across the court while they watch, not looking away even for a moment. 

“He seems very single minded,” Neil mumbles, as Andrew asks, “Why are you still up?” 

For a moment, they both still, waiting out the others’ response. Andrew begrudgingly grunts, the only acknowledgement he’ll give the statement. Neil sort of laughs, waving his hand. “Running.”

“That is obvious,” Andrew murmurs, eyes flicking down to the lurid orange shorts he’s wearing, 

“Well, then why ask?” Neil huffs, a laugh this time that has Andrew’s heart beating just as fast as when Neil had scared him. 

“Making conversation,” he manages, eyes dancing across Neil’s face, cataloguing details in memory. _Freckle under his eye, scar on the top of his lip, long eyelashes._ Andrew is so absorbed in his silent task that he almost doesn’t notice Neil watching him back, gaze sharp and observant. _Almost_. 

“Shouldn’t you be going to sleep already?” he bites. His brain feels separate from his body, the logical voice of reason while his body strains to keep Neil here, to keep talking, to keep looking at him.

Neil’s face sobers just a bit. Just enough for Andrew to notice the difference, to instantly photocopy it to his brain and catalogue the emotion under: _disappointment/discomfort._

He recovers just as quickly, expression smoothing into something unreadable. “Well, sure. I’ll sleep here,” he says easily, and stretches out along the same step from yesterday, while Andrew stares. 

“You will _not_.” 

Neil’s eyes flutter open, curiously. “I… am? It’ll save me time.”

“Get up,” Andrew mutters, and Neil does it instantly, not even a trace of wariness in his eyes. Andrew’s jaw creaks with how hard it’s clenching, and he doesn’t miss how Neil’s eyes drop to the sharp corner of his face. “Go back to your dorm, idiot. Practice can wait.” 

Neil frowns. “It’s just,” he starts, gesturing at the gym, “the dorm is on the opposite side of campus from this gym. The captain, I forgot her name, said that we usually use that gym, but since we’re getting ready for spirit month, we have to use this one.” 

Andrew stares, contemplating that, rolling over solutions in his head. One lights up, blinking and dead center in his thoughts, and definitely the worst idea. Neil shrugs, not even the least bit helpless, but Andrew can’t help it. 

“I’ll take you,” he offers, already regretting it from the second it’s out of his mouth. “My car is faster than you could run, and I’ll come back for Kevin later.” 

Neil only stares at him for a moment before a small, hesitant smile flickers across his face. It’s mostly in his eyes, the way they widen just barely, before crinkling at the edges. “Sure?” 

“Let’s go,” Andrew says, avoiding his eyes. He keeps his eyes away from the spill of stairs, clutching hard onto the rail and pointedly ignoring the way Neil takes them two at a time, hopping down the middle. 

Once he reaches the bottom, he raps his knuckles hard against the glass, getting Kevin’s attention as he takes another perfect shot on goal. He gestures toward the door, and Kevin stares between him and Neil with a confused expression. 

“I’ll be right back,” he mouths, and Kevin shakes his head.

Andrew points towards the door, so Kevin goes, meeting him at the edge. His voice is low, with an undercurrent of shock, as he whispers, “You’re not going to murder him, are you?”

Andrew rolls his eyes and glances back at Neil, who must have heard that, if the stifled smile on his face is any indication. “No,” he responds flatly, but Kevin still looks unconvinced, studying Andrew’s face closely. 

“I think I’m good,” Neil cuts in, edging closer to the door. “Thanks,” he adds, and it’s so imperceptibly sarcastic that Andrew turns away before anyone can see his pleased smile.

Neil follows close behind him, as Andrew leads them through the locker room and out to the parking lot. 

“Your cousin was right about the car,” Neil says appreciatively. His tone is a bit halted though, as he observes it. Andrew watches his eyebrows crease, picking up on the hesitance. 

“Do you know what kind it is?” 

Neil looks up at him, features folding into a stunned expression, before it clears entirely and he laughs, long and hard. Andrew’s heart jumps in response, and a tiny half smile appears on his face, completely unbidden. 

“No idea,” Neil laughs, “but it looks like one of those expensive ones. And it was worth saying, cause this is the first time you’ve smiled in like, a week.” 

“I smile all the time,” Andrew shoots back, deadpan as he unlocks the doors and slides into the driver’s seat. When Neil gets in, his gaze settles on Andrew’s mouth consideringly. 

“Somehow,” he says dryly, “I don’t believe that.”

Andrew looks away and switches the car into drive, trying and failing to erase the look Neil had given him. As Neil offers quiet directions, he lets himself be lulled into peace by the lilt of his voice, and the soft music on the radio. 

Three minutes later, Andrew pulls up in front of the dorms, observing the empty grounds so he doesn’t have to look at Neil. 

“Thanks,” he says shortly, whisper-quiet. Andrew nods, and Neil levers himself out of the car with ease. He lingers by the open door until Andrew’s forced to look at him, and then he smiles. 

“Feel you later,” he laughs, and right before he shuts the door, Andrew, ridiculously, sticks his foot up to stop it. He doesn’t even have the time to reflect on how _stupid_ that was, cursing the audible strain in his tone when he asks, “ _What_?” 

“Get it? You stepped on me, in the gym. So, I’ll _feel_ you later, not see you.” 

Andrew stares impassively, relief and disappointment coursing through his body in equal amounts. _Maybe more disappointment_ , he thinks, as his gaze drops down to Neil’s bare legs, and wanders back up to his face. He thinks, for a split second, that Neil may be _blushing_. 

“Yeah,” Andrew manages through a tight voice, “I get it.” 

“Matt said I’m bad at jokes,” he offers, almost like an apology. He’s frowning, and his hands are tight around the door’s edge, pushing and pulling in a swaying motion, like he’s not quite yet ready to leave. 

Andrew definitely does _not_ care what that suggests. That Neil _likes_ talking to him. And then he circles back to what Neil said, and frowns. 

“Matt? As in Boyd?”

Neil pauses, nodding slow. There’s a hint of amusement in his face, like maybe he’s heard about how tumultuous their relationship is. It’s not that Andrew _dislikes_ Matt, just that they don’t get along on principle. The only things that they really have to bond over are money - both from family members who are dead (figuratively in Matt’s case, literally in Andrew’s.)

“Do you know the whole Exy team?” Andrew asks tiredly, and Neil smiles softly. Andrew grits his teeth, wants to ask if he always smiles this much, or if he thinks Andrew is funny, or if Andrew’s just dreamt him up somewhere along the way, desperate for something so unbelievably good. 

“Dan and Nicky are both taking Spanish Literature and they needed notes from me. Katelyn introduced me to Aaron, and the rest of the team pointed out the Exy players. Oh,” he says, right before he closes the door, “I know Matt because he offered to sponsor me.” 

Andrew stares. “Boyd?” 

Neil smiles fondly, and jealousy curls sharp between Andrew’s ribs, an uncomfortable, familiar feeling. “Yeah, he and Dan split it. She picked the song.” 

He forces a nod in response, forcing down the ugly emotion rearing its head. He reminds himself: he doesn’t have a right to be possessive, Neil isn’t his to protect or to even care for, this is nothing, he is nothing.

The last part isn’t true, though. Neil isn’t nothing, and he’s so much more than Andrew wants to see. He’s afraid that if he continues, he’ll want to keep digging and digging until there’s nothing left to uncover, and he’s just tumbling through empty air. Would it hurt when he landed? 

Has he ever felt this much? He’s not even sure what it is about Neil that draws on him, makes him feel like he’s free falling. 

Neil hovers, unsure, and Andrew says, “Goodnight, Neil.” An offering. A palm up between them. 

Andrew doesn’t beg for anything. It’d hurt too bad to put himself in a situation to want, when life hasn’t kept a single promise to him. But well, Neil smiles and murmurs, “Goodnight, Andrew.” 

After he shuts the door, Andrew watches him leave. A deep breath in, gripping the wheel with one hand and his knee tightly with the other. And it’s okay. 

_It’s nothing, this is nothing_. 

Neil turns to wave before he opens the main door, and Andrew pulls away. 

-

There’s four starter games in October, and the whole team is a wreck over it. Wilds is being snappy, and Renee barely manages to reel her in when she cuts too deep. Kevin bitches and Nicky takes Kevin’s criticism silently; Aaron grits his teeth at the harsh words, snapping back.

Andrew feels the tension all over, rolling thick over his skin, rough in his voice, buzzing between his shoulders. 

Practice ends uneventfully, with everyone feeling worse for wear. Kevin waits for the night, and once he’s on the court again, all Andrew has to do is wait. Neil surfaces, normally this time, not beneath Andrew’s feet or appearing out of nowhere like a ghost. Or a dream - he’s not entirely convinced he’s not a mass hallucination. 

He spots him, coming up the bleachers just as silently as usual, eyes bright. Andrew’s tension ebbs away as Neil says _hello_ , and disappears entirely by the time he starts really talking. Kevin glances at them curiously, like always, before he looks back to his racquet. 

Andrew’s not entirely sure how _this_ started, their game of truths. His perfect recall fails him in this moment, as he tries to remember whether Neil pried his chest open to expose his secrets, or if he’d just offered his own, and Andrew was too helpless to do anything but go along with it. 

It works, simply. Andrew doesn’t tell him because he feels obligated, and Neil doesn’t ask unless he offers first. 

They trade truths, and Neil sometimes sits close enough that Andrew could reach out and touch him, if he wanted to. Once, when Neil tells him why exactly he learned to come and go so quietly, Andrew had tucked his hands beneath his legs to keep from grabbing the back of his neck, just holding him. Keeping him safe, secure. A way of saying, _you’re real, you’re here_ , when he sees Neil’s eyes start to get distant. 

The feeling is unknown and anger inducing, the urge to protect. For Aaron and Kevin, the promise of protection is offered because he’s getting something in return. He’s not sure what to do with the way he feels for Neil, like he’d burn the world down just to keep him safe, if he asked. Without a single thing in return.

Neil laughs, falling over himself, into Andrew’s space. Andrew sits absolutely still, lets him get closer and wonders acutely where his usual defenses are, why they haven’t jumped to protect him during this invasion of space. 

When he looks at Neil, his line of thoughts dissipates. 

It happens like this, every night. They talk and Neil’s lilting voice dictates the rise and fall of his heart rate, soothed into steady beating by his gentle comments, and then scrambling forward to keep up with Neil’s cruel jokes and attitude.

Every night, when Andrew takes him to the dorms, Neil stays for a moment to wave goodbye, before he turns in. 

As soon as he’s gone, the car feels ten times bigger, and the quiet is nearly deafening. Andrew has to turn up the radio as soon as Neil leaves, bothered suddenly by how loud the silence is without him there. 

He gets back to the dorm, showers and turns out the lights, unable to sleep. Goes to the window and thinks of everything that isn’t Neil, and then sleeps and dreams of only Neil.

And then it’s a Friday and not only is there a game, but the Vixens are doing their first performance. Neil told him the night before that they’d be performing in triplets, and that he’s not performing until the last week in October. 

Andrew can’t tell if that’s better than having to watch him now. He _could_ just look away, and right when he sets his heart on that idea, he catches sight of Neil on the far side of the court, going over some step sequence with Katelyn and another random girl on the team.

He’d been wondering what the uniform would look like for Neil, considering they’ve never had a male cheerleader at PSU before (according to him). Shorts, apparently. Loose, garishly orange and unbearably short. At least he’s wearing a long sleeve. During their truth games, he’d pulled up his sleeves to reveal arms littered with scars, and Andrew had been filled with rage at the people who hurt him.

Neil stiffens, feeling eyes on him, and turning his head suddenly to catch Andrew’s eye. His expression transforms, going from concentration to joy and back again so fast, Andrew’s sure he imagined it. Neil smiles, a small hesitant thing, and raises his hand.

Andrew bites his tongue to keep from smiling as he salutes him back. 

The time passes fast, between drills and announcements and Wymack’s speech. Then they’re on the court, and Andrew wants to laugh at the lack of effort it takes to guard the goal. He catches sight of Wymack on the sidelines, holding up two fingers. Then Neil, staring at Kevin as he strides across the court, ball in racquet. 

Andrew turns, makes sure Wymack is watching, and holds up his fist, all fingers down. 

He’s not letting a single goal in tonight, if only because he has motivation to do good. Neil seems to be interested, and Andrew’s incentive is getting his attention. If nothing comes of it beyond his unpleasant feelings, maybe Neil would just hook up sometime. Wouldn’t that be preferable?

Andrew tosses the ball back out onto the court, deflecting another shot, and thinks _no, it’s not enough._ He hears a shout from the side somehow, over the roaring crowd, and catches Neil’s eye as Andrew slams the ball away into the other half of the court. 

Neil’s got his hands up, holding these huge, horrible poms (Andrew had been scolded for referring to them as pom-poms earlier in the week) and waving them together. It’s the first time Andrew’s ever seen him smile so wide, face a caricature of sweet pride. 

He blocks the goal entirely for the rest of the first half, feigning ignorance at Wymack’s wary glances and ignoring Nicky’s outburst of pride. He looks to Kevin next, and he simply glances down at Andrew, squinting. 

The Vixens go on during halftime, but when Andrew doesn’t see Neil, he stares down at his phone.

**_cult member: looking for me ?_ **

He scoffs, glancing up to the cheer bench. Neil waves underhanded, not wanting to draw attention to himself, and Andrew can’t help the twitch of his lip. 

_Absolutely not_ , he types back, as Nicky screeches compliments at the dancers. Andrew looks up as one of the senior girls does a flip backwards, and then keeps going. His phone buzzes. 

**_cult member: you found me anyway_ **

Andrew turns his phone off and scowls at Neil, mouthing _shut up_ across the floor. Neil squints, a smile forming on his mouth, before he lifts a middle finger. This mousy girl sitting next to him makes a shocked face and he laughs, glancing back at Andrew with that same glowing smile. 

His eyes are blue splashes across Andrew’s vision for the rest of the game, so vibrant that the color dances behind his eyelids when he blinks. 

The Foxes win the game that night, and Nicky drags them out to Columbia to celebrate. 

Andrew stays seated all night, not even looking in the direction of the bar. He blinks as the lights flash between blue and red and purple, seeing Neil’s eyes, and then his hair, and then the meld of it all. He dreams in technicolor that night, all vibrant splashes of light and the dizzy feeling of staring into strobe lights.

-

October passes much of the same way that September does, and Andrew is falling, further down than he ever thought he could. 

His feelings rattle inside his chest, harsh and cutting with impossibility, a reminder that nothing he’s wanted ever really becomes his. Not unless he bargains, makes deals and makes sacrifices, and never lets a single thing stop him. 

This thing with Neil isn’t a deal, not even close. It’s Neil talking to him, just because he wants to, for whatever reason. When Andrew asked, frustrated, tired of waiting for Neil to leave, he’d replied, “I like talking to you.” As if it was simple, obvious.

As if that answered anything. A piece of Andrew’s heart came loose, adding to the rattling, horrible emotions. He wants _this_ . Whatever _this_ is. Neil, mostly. In any way, in every way. In any way he’d allow.

Neil glints, unbothered and unashamed. He talks to Andrew in public, and snaps back at anyone who asks why. He talks to Andrew in private, seeking him out while Kevin’s busy destroying his body with excessive exercise, speaking to him until his voice drops out from under him and he yawns.

Andrew wants, and stays silent about it. Once, he guides the conversation, not being subtle at all when he tells him that Nicky thought he was gay. Neil had frowned, more curious than upset, and shook his head. He doesn’t swing, was his explanation, when Andrew had gestured at him to continue. 

There was a moment when Andrew thought that maybe, _maybe_ , something different was happening. That he wasn’t being hopeless or naive about it. A moment he remembers perfectly but hates thinking about, only because Neil’s eyes had flashed with something too close to shock when he’d realized how close they’d gotten. 

He shoves his feelings down, refuses to acknowledge them, to even _look_ for them. But he can’t stop feeling them. The second he’d opened himself up, thrown out all the worst parts of him for Neil to see, he’d opened himself up to the possibility. And Neil _had_ seen, and he stayed anyway, enjoying those parts as much as the other ones. 

Andrew’s fucked, in summary. His mind is work and family, and sometimes, practice. 

And Neil just manages to fill in all the gaps between. Neil hates texting, but he texts incessantly. He hates going back to his dorm at night, but he lets Andrew drive him anyway. 

Andrew hates him. Every single thing about him.

-

On the last Friday in October, Nicky comes into practice with his hands flying, talking animatedly with one of the freshmen. 

“Have you _seen_ their routine?” he asks, and the freshman nods her head in silent acquiescence, looking rather pained. 

“It’s so good. I’m so gay,” she says solemly, and Nicky barely reigns in his squeal as he nods enthusiastically. Andrew watches, thankful for the fact that Nicky has someone to talk to besides he and Aaron. 

“Me _too_ . Even though you’re fawning over the girls. Not my thing, but _God_ that boy can _move_.” 

Considering Neil’s group is the last to go, Andrew’s curiosity is piqued. He feigns boredom as his gaze flicks over to them.

“I can’t believe that song, though. Like, don’t children come to these games?” 

Nicky waves a hand dismissively. “Yeah but, it’s for a good cause duh. And it’s college, it’s not entirely inappropriate.” 

Andrew is deeply interested now. It takes everything in him to keep his face impassive, usually not a difficult feat, but any twitch of his eyebrow would give him away. When he turns, Nicky is staring right at him. 

“Are you two hooking up already?” he asks suspiciously, eyebrows dancing up and down. Andrew fights the urge to scoff, raising his middle finger instead. No one is going to know a single thing about how he feels, least of all Neil. 

“Or… Matt,” Nicky calls, drawing out the _a_ in his name. “Have you and Dan decided to open up your relationship to accommodate Neil? Is that why you picked out that lovely song?” 

Andrew bristles, recalling what Neil had said about his feelings with attraction. 

_“It’s like, my mom was super paranoid that I’d tell someone my dad was beating me. So, if she found out I’d been around a girl, she’d slap me a few times to get it out of my system. Really it was for the best. If she hadn’t done that, I might have given up the secret, by accident, I guess. And then he would have killed us both before we could get help.”_

“Dan’s the only gal for me, thank you very much,” Matt grins easily, and Andrew’s shoulders lose a bit of tension. Nicky sidles over to his side, smiling wide and bringing more tension.

“I’m sure Erik would be more than willing to share. It really wouldn’t be a problem, unless you have any obje-”

Andrew’s voice bursts free, tight and angry. “Cut it the fuck _out_ , Nicky.” 

The room lapses into silence, all eyes shifting to Andrew. He freezes, trying to clear the tension from his hands, refusing to give into the rage boiling under his skin. His breaths come shallowly, and he forces himself to take a deep breath and step away. No one breathes another word, and when they’re on the court, Nicky steadily avoids Andrew’s gaze, shame layering his features. 

When practice ends, Nicky follows Andrew out to his car, stopping at his window. Andrew rolls it down wordlessly. 

“Hey,” he says, tone softened. Andrew hates the pity lining his face. “I’m sorry. I’ll back off. I didn’t know you guys were actually a thing.”

“We’re not,” Andrew grits out, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, gathering patience. “He’s not into anyone, okay? He gets uncomfortable when people hit on him, so fucking stop doing it before he tells you off.” 

Andrew hazards a glance at Nicky. He’s staring like he’s never seen Andrew before, like there’s something _wrong_. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it instead. 

“Okay?” Andrew asks gruffly, and Nicky nods, a hint of realization in his stare.

“Yeah, okay.” He walks away, sated by the conversation. Andrew can’t help the way his whole body tenses, overwhelmed by his response. He can’t afford this feeling, and yet he’s doing it anyway. It’s unfamiliar to him, to wish someone was around. Someone who could just _be_ , and manage to be more than enough. Someone that sticks around, regardless of what he’s told or hears.

The word _crush_ fizzes on his tongue, tastes of bile and bitterness, fearful and uncharted. Like standing at the edge of the roof, feeling the wind at his back.

And then the image of Neil comes, sweet and burning away the horrid feeling. Soothing, even if Andrew knows that this feeling is falling from the roof’s ledge, knows that letting it continue is diving to hit the bottom faster.

He collects himself. Drives away, feeling strangely buoyed by his hopeless feeling. It burns, familiar as rage, so he pretends that’s what it is, filling the spaces between his ribs, clouding his mind until he can’t think of anything else. Cleansing. 

He has a while before the game and he doesn’t want to be around anyone, so Andrew disappears into the dorm for a while, thankfully uninterrupted. He tucks himself into the window frame, lighting cigarette after cigarette. Going up to the roof seems too much like a chore today, and the dorm room is blissfully empty.

For once, it doesn’t even bother him that Aaron is probably with his (admittedly alright) girlfriend. 

Kevin comes to collect him after a while, after Andrew wastes his time trying not to think of Neil and failing miserably. Nicky’s lingering in the doorway too, and when Andrew tilts his head, he sees Aaron too. 

_Family tradition_ , he muses. The stadium is a fine distance to walk, but it's a habit to catch a ride together. For practices too, but it seems like everyone except Kevin is busy lately. Andrew doesn’t mind either way, so long as they’re all safe when he finds them again. 

He wonders when exactly Neil fell into place in that category. Honorary family. _A little intense for a crush_ , his mind mocks, cruel as is his default. He shakes it off, pulling his keys from his pocket and standing up. They file out like that, Kevin shouldering close to Andrew and Aaron and Nicky side by side. 

-

The stadium is packed with buzzing people, hordes of conversation filling the room. Andrew takes a deep breath, letting the noise glide right off his skin when he catches sight of Neil, shuffling away from the other girls after pre-game cheers. 

He summons every ounce of his willpower not to smile when he sees Neil striding towards him. He glances behind him quickly to see if anyone’s paying attention - they’re too consumed in the nerves for tonight, Andrew supposes. 

Neil stops right in front of him, standing tall and relaxed. Andrew hates that he has to look up at him, hates that Neil looks so good even with orange glitter streaking his eyes. It makes the icy blue of his irises stand out ten times more, and Andrew’s drowning in it. 

Neil says, “Hello,” mouth curving up like he can’t contain his smile. Andrew is suddenly very aware of the fact that there’s very little distance between them. His hands twitch at his sides, and Neil glances down at them.

“Hi,” he manages, voice rough. Neil smiles and nods a little, and Andrew nods back. He starts talking about the game, about how exciting it’ll be considering the match up (against the Bearcats, which isn’t particularly exciting, but that’s because Andrew can’t be bothered). 

“And you’re going to shut out the goal again probably,” he laughs, huffing incredulously, staring at Andrew as if he’s impossible. “You’re amazing.” 

“You’re absolutely insufferable,” Andrew grumbles, and Neil only smiles softly, his new response to Andrew insulting him.

As if he knows that Andrew doesn’t mean it. The crowd starts to get louder as the clock continues to countdown to game time. Neil shuffles closer, probably to be heard over the shouting, but Andrew’s heart beats a little harder at the implication anyway. 

“Game’s starting soon,” he says. Andrew nods, and Neil’s eyes dart across Andrew’s face, a bit wild looking, and _oh_. He’s nervous, he must be. Andrews stares at him, wondering how he could ever be nervous with the talent he has. 

He grabs Neil’s chin in his hand, holding fast so he can’t turn away. “You’re literally the most talented person out here, right now. Stop. You’re going to do okay.”

Neil stares with wide, soft eyes, uncharacteristic of him. The look does horrible things to Andrew’s heart. A grin plays across his lips as he leans into Andrew’s hand. He is startlingly aware of the Foxes behind him, and if Neil’s gaze drifting is any indication, they’re all staring over here. 

“Thank you. Your friends are uh,” he pauses, suddenly unsure. “I’m gonna head back okay?” For a split second, he looks conflicted, and Andrew _feels_ conflicted, suddenly wanting more than the abrupt goodbye. Just as he decides not to do anything, Neil reaches up and pulls Andrew’s hand away from his face, not looking away as he brings it to his mouth and kisses his fingers. 

Andrew stops breathing. The world stops turning. The rush of the crowd is white noise, suddenly. Everyone except Neil is peripheral, a stray fleck in Andrew’s world. 

He is intensely aware of Neil’s lips on his skin, and of the fact that he’s being dramatic. 

“See you later,” he calls over his shoulder, “Good luck!”

Andrew turns abruptly to find three pairs of eyes on him, and five others looking away. 

“ _What_?” he snaps, and Renee is the only one who doesn’t turn away. There’s a small smile playing on her lips, only partially hidden by the grate of her face mask, and Andrew scoffs. 

“So you two _are_ together?” Nicky interjects, voice straining to be heard despite the squeakiness of it. Andrew stares at him until he throws his hands up, turning away with a, “You know what? I don’t care anymore.”

Thing is, Andrew’s not really sure how to answer that. They’re _not_ together. Unless they are? Don’t people who are together hang out all the time? 

Does he _want_ that?

He’ll have to talk to Renee later. After the game maybe. If he doesn’t speed off to avoid Neil for the rest of time, to keep from getting his hopes up. Hope is a horrible, dangerous thing. But, when he catches Neil’s eye, the impossible truth of it creeps up on him.

The beginning of the game is announced by the sound of the buzzer, but Andrew’s far away from it all, caught up in the anticipation of halftime. He blocks out every shot neatly, shutting down completely and catching Neil’s impressed cheer, glancing out of the corner of his eye each time he turns his head.

Time passes too slow, and then it’s break, and they’re being ushered onto the side bench to watch the Vixens.

For once, Andrew sits politely and waits, Renee at his side. She keeps flashing him knowing looks and he keeps glaring, trying to calm the erratic beating of his heart. On his other side, Boyd is crushed in, cutting off Nicky’s attempts to talk to Andrew. The announcer drones, and Andrew waits, ignoring everything except for the dimming lights, and Dan’s prideful expression. 

“I’m surprised he didn’t go against the song choice,” she says, and Andrew turns slightly to face Renee. She’s already watching him, probably waiting for his reaction.

Matt says, “Did you expect him to?” Laughing, he turns to make eyes at Andrew, a rare display of solidarity. Andrew tries to choke down his irritation, recalling what Neil said about letting people in. 

_“You don’t have to tell them anything. You don’t owe anyone anything. It’s just easier to interact. They don’t care much about your past, and you shouldn’t dredge it up just to keep holding grudges.”_

Andrew wondered privately how Neil could have gained such intense self-awareness when he was so anti-therapy. Bee had said something similar, once upon a time, so he accepted it without further question, even if he doesn’t enact it often. 

“I mean, it’s Jessie J. Anyone would like her music.” 

Andrew frowns. Matt frowns. Neil walks out, two cheerleaders in tow that Andrew couldn’t be bothered to learn the names of. His eyes stray, following him onto the center of the court, even as he listens to Dan.

“I thought it was Ariana Grande.”

Nicky speaks up, leaning in with his own frown, “I swear I heard Nicki Minaj when I walked into their practice.”

And then the song starts. 

_Oh_ , Andrew thinks weakly. His mind, always running, always too loud, has gone suddenly still and quiet. 

_"She got a body like an hourglass, but I can give it to you all the time_.”

Andrew watches intently, as Neil moves to the beat. 

“Interesting lyrics,” Renee comments, as Matt leans over and says, “Aren’t there kids here?” 

Dan grins, nodding. “God this is great.” 

Andrew is inclined to agree. 

He watches, not looking away for a second, as Neil dances. He’s got a sharpness to him, something that makes him stand out from the others. Or maybe that’s just because Andrew can’t look away from him. 

His movements are precise and controlled, but there’s a relaxedness to him that’s usually not there, a drop in his normal intense vigilance. Like when he’s sitting in Andrew’s car, plastered against the seat with a soft look on his face. Except now, he’s bright and bold, and unbearably attractive. Andrew isn’t sure how he’ll endure ever speaking to him again after this. 

They’re doing some weird pattern, Andrew realizes. During the first verse, it’s one of the other girls in the middle, doing complicated tumbling moves and joining in on group choreography for the chorus. 

Then it switches, and it’s the second girl. Everyone is cheering and Andrew is holding his breath. The beat switches again, gets faster, and then Neil comes out, and _oh._ Nicky gasps, very audibly. 

Andrew’s holding his breath. 

Dan cheers, and Matt and Reynolds chorus her, and Andrew’s silent and still, completely captured.

“Nicki fucking _Minaj_ ,” Nicky cheers, and Andrew says, under his breath, “ _Damn_.”

It’s horribly unlike him to be caught so off guard, but Neil is absolutely _killing_ it, looking better than both girls. He has been this whole time, beautiful and horrible, harsh and shining. A diamond broken from a stone. 

Andrew is suddenly aware that he’s waxing poetic about Neil over a Nicki Minaj verse. The minute the song ends, each of them landing in a split on the floor, Andrew stands up and makes his way out into the hall, ignoring Renee shouting after him. 

He’s suddenly intensely overwhelmed by his feelings, pulsing hot through his bloodstream. The ridiculousness of the whole situation, everything incredulous and equally wonderful and horrible about Neil. He’s all Andrew thinks about - Bee may have called that a romantic interest, but Andrew feels that the term is disproportionate, unfair. He feels _obsessed_ , unfairly so, because Neil _doesn’t_ swing, and he most certainly is not interested in Andrew.

He feels irrational, and angry, overheated. And on top of that, his attraction to Neil hasn’t changed at all. It’s still just as all consuming and terrifying. With his head tilted back against the wall, he takes a deep breath, allowing the dim light of the hall to soothe his frustration. 

“Andrew?” 

Andrew supposes that some antidepressants _do_ cause hallucinations.

He tilts his head regardless, squinting to make sure that Neil’s real, that the glitter on his eyes isn’t shifting colors or shapes. Andrew feels hot all over, taking him in. His breathless state, eyes bright and heavy lidded from exhaustion, all the adrenaline fading from his system. He huffs, looking worried.

“Neil,” Andrew responds flatly. _Come here._ “Aren’t you supposed to be inside?” 

He frowns, leaning closer. Andrew could have sworn he said that in his head. Then again, maybe Neil just knows, another side effect of being so impossibly _right_.

“Aren’t you? The second half is starting in a few minutes” 

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Andrew breathes, shutting his eyes again, fighting the desire coiling in his stomach, prodding at his chest. Neil hums quietly, standing by his side. 

“Did you like it, then?” he asks, after a silent moment, “I was a bit nervous, to be honest-”  
  
“Neil,” Andrew says, words ripping from his mouth before he can stop them. At least this way, he knows, and he can bear Neil being so close if they’re only friends. “Can I kiss you?”

Neil falls silent, voice shuttering out and faltering. Andrew opens his eyes, bracing himself for rejection, something granted. Neil doesn’t swing, not at all, not ever. _This is just preventative measures,_ Andrew assures himself. _If I ask and he doesn’t want to, I’ll just leave him alone._

“Yes?”

Andrew looks up, marvelling slightly at Neil’s easy, surprised grin. “Is that what you wanted to ask me?” he huffs, eyes growing soft. Andrew gapes, mouth falling open slightly. He can’t help it. Neil’s eyes fall to his mouth.

“Yes, Andrew. Yes, you can kiss me.” 

“I thought you don’t swing,” Andrew says flatly, not kissing him, and Neil’s expression turns complicated for a moment. 

“I thought I didn’t either,” he says slowly, “I don’t know.” 

Andrew considers him, and Neil stares back earnestly, eyes darting across his features. “Only for you,” he decides after a moment. “I didn’t think it was possible, before I guess. And I don’t really know a lot of what that’s supposed to feel like, but I like being around you. I like talking to you, and I find you attractive, and yes, I want you to kiss me.”

“Neil.” 

He nods earnestly, oblivious to the thudding of Andrew’s heart, to how ridiculous he sounds. Andrew hates him, or what he makes him feel. Neil’s face is softening again in understanding, and Andrew wraps his hand around the back of Neil’s neck, tugging him down so they’re nose to nose. 

“Yes or no, Neil?”

“Yes, Andrew,” he whispers, eyes already half closed. Andrew closes the gap, leaning up into it, grabbing Neil’s hands and leading them to his own hair. 

“Here,” he mumbles, and Neil nods into it. It’s what he thought it’d be, a kiss, something familiar. But it’s also _more_. More because Neil keeps his hands rooted in Andrew’s hair, fingers running in little circles through the tangles of hair. He sighs into it, and Andrew wraps his arms around Neil’s shoulders, tugging him closer. 

When Andrew pulls away, it’s to the sound of the minute warning before the game. Neil takes a moment to open his eyes, looking slightly dazed. 

“Did you like my performance, though?” he mumbles, and Andrew resists the urge to shove his face away. “Oh shit, that’s the buzzer right?” 

Andrew nods, steeling himself already for the wave of anger, his destructiveness coming in to defend him from having this. He waits for a moment, but the only thing he can see is Neil, shadowed by the dark hall, waiting. 

Andrew is pretty sure he’s never felt exactly like this before, not even close. 

“Are you okay?” Neil asks, and Andrew nods again, eyes dropping down to Neil’s mouth as he tries to decide exactly how he feels. Anger is coming up blankly. He doesn’t feel anything but this fluttering, strange thing. A pull, a rope leading back to Neil.

Neil digs his fingers into Andrew’s hair for a second, gaining his attention. 

“Hey,” he mumbles. 

“We can talk about it after the game,” Andrew decides, and Neil’s face shifts, doused in instant relief. 

“Okay,” he smiles, and Andrew leans forward to press a last kiss to his mouth. “Go.” 

Andrew does, with Neil following close next to him. 

-

Despite the fact that Andrew’s distracted enough to let three goals in, they win the game. As soon as the buzzer goes off, he walks straight off the court, straight over to Neil. 

“Ride back with me, yes or no?” 

Neil grins and nods, completely ignoring everyone else in favor of following Andrew out the doors. He manages to keep his hands to himself until they’re in the car, and then he kisses Neil until they’re both breathless and stupid. 

Neil opens his mouth, eyes lighting up the way they do before he bursts out laughing.

"Andrew."

" _Yes._ " he grits, tugging Neil closer as he starts laughing, "Yes I liked the performance. I _hate_ you." 

"I don't believe you," Neil grins, and Andrew pulls him in for another kiss. 

**Author's Note:**

> hi hello ! thank you very much for reading
> 
> kudos and comments sustain me (esp comments LORD i love reading what y'all think) 
> 
> i hope everyone has a lovely day, n' if there's anything more you wanna see from my writing, let me know in the comments or at my [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/loveandwarandmagick)


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